


Sick Day

by synteis



Series: Our House [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synteis/pseuds/synteis
Summary: Alex takes a very unexpected day off.Eliza would very much like to know why and if it has anything to do with his sick boyfriend in the other room if only so that she can tease him for eternity.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iniquiticity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iniquiticity/gifts).



> For @iniquiticity who was having a bad day. Also because this is self-indulgent November I indulged in all my favourite tropes.
> 
> Thank you to Wind_Ryder for betaing this. All remaining errors are mine.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy.

“I didn’t expect to see you home this time of day, Alex,” Eliza said from the front hall.

“Shhh,” Alex shushed from his position on the blue couch, eyes flicking to his and George’s bedroom door.

He listened for a sound of protest from George but didn’t hear anything. _Maybe he’d finally managed to fall into a doze?_

Alex had picked his room back when he and his friends had first started this crazy communal housing project. It was removed from the rest of the bedrooms so no one would care if he was up at all hours and he wouldn’t wake the baby. Hard to imagine that was six years ago. Harder to remember a time when Henriette had been the only child in the house. Lafayette and Adri doting and terrified with constant bags under their eyes.

Unfortunately, as a sick room, it was less well located. No matter how hard everyone had tried, there was only so much a ten person house could keep the noise down in the morning. In the end, Alex had closed the heavy door and hoped for the best. After the last of their large household had trickled out for the day, he’d finally propped open the bedroom door and camped out in the living room with his work, hoped he could manage to look after his partner without disrupting George with the clattering of his keys (or the light of his screen).

He checked the clock.

11 am.

“You just off your shift?” Alex asked, keeping his voice low. He’d known that she was working last night, she posted her schedule in the kitchen every week, but he’d gotten lost in the work and worrying about George and now—well here he was.

She nodded. She was leaning against the frame of the door that connected the living room with the front. The blue of her scrubs peaked out under her winter coat, and her hair was pulled back from her face in a low hanging ponytail. Gentle, dark circles were encroaching on heavy eyes, but she still managed two sharply raised eyebrows, radiating disbelief.

She was still the most beautiful woman that Alex had ever met. He’d been an idiot to throw it all away for an affair, was lucky that they’d managed to reconcile in the end and become friends.

She was the wisest person he knew.

Unfortunately, that wisdom was working against Alex now. Eliza was surveying the room with sharp eyes that knew him far too well, putting together the pieces of the puzzle.

Turning away from her gaze, he began gathering the papers that he’d managed to scatter across the coffee table and the couch into something more like order. Eliza had clear standards for cleanliness and clutter and while she’d certainly she’d seen worse, his room at Columbia or Stanford for one, that had been in their twenties and he was now solidly in his thirties. Nowadays, like any normal adult, he kept his mess confined to his office and sometimes his bedroom.

Several precarious stacks of paper later, the living room looked slightly less like a tornado had hit it. Unfortunately, Eliza still hadn’t taken a seat on her favorite chair, or made herself tea, or gotten some food, or any of her usual post-shift activities. He could feel guilt slowly building in his gut.

Another five minutes and he gave in. She just had this way about her that just made him want to confess all. It probably worked wonders on her patients. Her interns too.

“George’s cluster headaches have hit again,” he said reluctantly. “The cycle started on Tuesday, just little ones at first but they’ve been getting worse. It’s been so long since his last episode that it’s hard to say how long this one will last.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and crossed the room to snuggle into her favorite wingback.

“This is what I get for having twenty-four hour shifts two nights in one week, I take it. I miss out on everything that’s happening,” she said, soft spoken and soothing. Alex felt his muscles relax a little.

“I should have put it on the whiteboard,” he reciprocated. “‘S what it’s for. Shouldn't lay it on Maria to keep you up to date, especially when you’ve got back to backs.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m sorry they’ve hit again. I know you were both hoping that the last time would be the charm and they wouldn’t come back. He’s got everything that he needs?”

Alex nodded. “He carries the meds with him wherever he goes.”

Eliza hummed in response, tucking her feet under her. They were always sore after a long shift.

She didn’t pick up the thread of the conversation again, though. Alex felt his foot fidget.

When was the last time he’d been home like this, out in the living room during the day instead of at work or in a meeting or on a plane? When they’d been together the craziness of their schedules had been part of the problem. Since then they’d both only gotten busier.

She hummed again, still studying him.

The tapping in his foot had spread to his knee, bouncing up and down. Alex looked away.

“Okay so maybe this is the first day I’ve taken off sick in like a year, but you’re the one who’s always on my case about _not_ taking my sick days.” The explanation erupted from his lips before he could help it.

Eliza looked at him doubtfully. “The scarlet fever?”

“I took at least two whole days off for that,” whined Alex. _He totally had!_ (Admittedly begrudgingly and only after fainting at work but that wasn’t the point.)

Her eyebrows were almost in her hairline by this point. “The pneumonia?”

“I was totally able to manage that all on my own.”

“That’s not what Laf said,” Eliza’s voice was as dry as the desert.

“I was responsible about that! I canceled all my in-person meetings in light of his possible contagion. I kept a large pitcher of water by my computer and made sure to stay hydrated, and I took all the pills and nasal rinses you could imagine not to mention your cough syrup stuff.”

“Uhuh.” Her foot tapped against the ground. “And are you trying to tell me that you have pneumonia?”

“Well,” Alex hedged. “Not exactly.”

Eliza’s face relaxed into a fond smile. “Did you take the day off to look after George?”

Alex turned back to the document he’d been working on, doing his best to ignore her teasing tone.

The movies made lusting over your teacher seem way cooler than it actually was. For Alex, it had mostly involved being painfully aware of how well George filled out his suits. And even more painfully aware of how much sleeping with his favorite professor could fuck up his career, despite how much he’d wanted to do it.

Eliza’s carefully maintained French tips were tapping out a rhythm on the arm of the chair while she watched him, amusement all over her face.

Still, he’d managed not to kiss or sleep with George while he’d been George’s student. So Alex counted that as a win. _And people say I have no self-control._

When they’d finally kissed, six years after Alex had fallen for his professor, it had been the first time that Alex had considered that Aaron might have a point with his whole “waiting for it” nonsense.

Thankfully they’d promptly thrown that notion away by not waiting a moment longer to finally have sex.

“Maybe,” he finally admitted.

Her eyebrows raised and a gleeful grin filled her face.

Alex resisted the urge to bury his face into one of the couch pillows. He was an adult, not a child.

And, as an adult, a tactical retreat was in order. Alex stood up and stretched. His back ached from the awkward position, but the living room was adjacent their bedroom while his office was several subway stops away.

“Do you want some of your lavender tea?” he asked Eliza as he walked towards the kitchen. “There’s some soup I can heat up too.”

“That would be lovely,” she said softly, her voice fond and pleased. Alex was glad that George didn't mind. Most people would have minded that their partner still lived in the same house as his ex-fiancée, that she still braided his hair, still had him wrapped around her little finger, just the way she liked it (Alex too, to be honest). At least she used mostly used her Alex-wrangling powers for good rather than evil.

He set the kettle boiling and pulled down three mugs from the cupboard. With a quick movement of his hand, he had strainers in two of them before putting his own mug under the coffee machine and pressing the button for a large cappuccino.

As the sound of grinding beans filled the kitchen, Alex dropped a spoonful of Eliza’s lavender tea and one of George’s headache tea into their respective cups.

He chuckled a little at the image. He hadn’t even tasted tea before he’d started dating Eliza in college. At the time, his diet had mostly consisted of tar black Turkish coffee and energy drinks with the occasional granola bar.

Since then, though, both of his long-term relationships had been with tea-drinking health nuts. Neither of whom had been very impressed with his diet.

A quick look in the fridge found some of the soup he’d picked up on the way home yesterday. As the kettle came to a boil, he poured out Eliza’s favorite carrot-ginger into her bowl and some chicken rice soup for George before taking a sip of his cappuccino. The soup went into the microwave while the tea steeped, and Alex cut several slices of bread from the loaf between sips.

He didn’t really mind the milk in the end, not that he’d tell any of them that after he’d raised such a protest over their efforts to convert him.

Alex pulled out two trays that someone, probably Laf judging from the midcentury vibe, had found at a jumble sale and starting filling them. At last, the microwave chirped and he returned to the living room with his bounty. Sure he hadn’t cooked any of it, but by his standards, this was basically domesticated.

Eliza smiled as he returned. “Hope that isn’t all for me.”

Alex placed her tray on the side table next to her chair. “No, the other tray’s for George.”

“That bad this time?” she asked, voice filled with concern.

Alex shrugged a little helplessly. George wouldn’t appreciate it if everyone acted concerned once this episode passed. If the nausea persisted or George stopped being able to keep liquids down, Alex could ask Eliza to hook George up to an IV. For now, there was no need.

Eliza nodded without further comment and took a sip of her soup.

“My favorite soup from my favorite deli,” she said, with a smile.

“How could I forget? You’ve only tried to replicate it like five times. And each time you aren’t satisfied with it,” replied Alex, glad to turn away from the previous topic. “I still don’t see why we can’t just buy quarts from the deli like regular New Yorkers.”

Eliza gave her version of a glare.

“Not that we mind,” Alex hurried to continue. “We’ve enjoyed the results of your attempt each time.”

“It would help if any of you could offer suggestions more helpful than ‘it’s really good already’ each time I try,” Eliza replied, huffing slightly. She took two more spoonfuls in quick succession, eyes closing to fully enjoy and analyze the flavor. It looked like they’d be having attempt number six the next time Eliza had cooking duty.

Alex looked his pile of papers, cup in one hand, George’s tray in the other. If he could get this seating arrangement done before twelve he thought he could clear out the rest of the backlog before the end of the day. For now, though he should bring George his soup and his tea before they got cold—

“—I thought the new company was focused on investment in public infrastructure. Developing an investment plan to replace those water pipes in Flint, right?” Eliza remarked casually.

Alex jumped and only just managed not to spill the contents of his hands. “Shit!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Eliza said.

“It’s fine, it’s my fault, I wasn't paying attention,” he said. “And that’s right, why do you ask?” he continued, straightening the items on the tray.

“And Laf’s the one who plans the events for your investors?” Eliza continued, voice warm and rich.

“Yes?” Suddenly Alex had a bad feeling about this.

Eliza shot him down with an eyebrow. “Then why are you planning a charity concert in Manhattan for youth orchestras? Isn’t that George’s pet project?”

“Umm,” tried Alex.

“The project you said you had no interest in?” asked Eliza before taking a bite of bread.

Alex gulped. He didn’t know that he’d ever seen bread eaten more disbelievingly before.

“Maybe?” Alex admitted. “Look, it’s important to George and some of the deadlines are approaching and–”

“Alexander,” Eliza interrupted the babbling with the firm, no-nonsense voice that Alex had seen stop an army of children in their tracks before. Alex didn’t stand a chance. “I believe you.” She took another spoonful of soup. “It’s very cute of you, really.”

Alex looked away, trying to hide his blush with a scowl.

“You know, when we were in college, this was not the life I was envisioning for us in our thirties,” she said a few minutes later.

Alex looked back at her. “You mean you didn’t think you’d be engaging in communal living in a renovated Gilded Age mansion with Maria, your friends, their partners, their assorted children, _and_ my former constitutional law professor, while you conquered the world of rheumatology and I tackled a human engineered health crisis?”

“Well anyone could have predicted your meteoric ascent, Alex. Not many people in their thirties can say they were CFO for a startup whose Initial Public Offering broke a billion dollars _and_ follow it up by founding a company whose goal is to raise investments to save the world.” She smiled up at him. “But no, this isn’t what I thought we’d be doing.”

“I think I like it better this way,” Alex whispered to her like he was sharing a secret. Added on, “And we aren’t saving the world, we just organize targeted investment strategies for public infrastructure,” when she was looking his way.

She raised her hands in mock apology before whispering back, “Me too.” She took another sip. “Don’t tell Father, though. He still thinks I’ll wisen up, marry you, buy a single family home, and fill it with several grandchildren.”

“How does it feel to suddenly be the family disappointment?” Alex teased. “Though how anyone could think you’re a disappointment deeply mystifies me.”

She took another very deliberate sip of tea that did little to hide her curved lips. “Really good. Peggy and Angelica can battle for the title of family favorite. I’m happy with Maria and our weird household. And between Sophie, and Laf and Adri’s kids, and whoever else is staying any given week, we’ve got more than enough children running around this place.”

Alex smiled back at her. Sure, there was part of him that still missed that future with Eliza and the procession of children they’d once dreamed of raising together but this was better for all of them. Eliza was happy with Maria. And while Alex had loved her, and still did, she deserved so much better. Besides, Alex’s role as uncle to the various children of the house suited his work schedule more than fatherhood would have.

It was nice, their little community. There was a warmth to the house that Alex treasured, an ease and a security. With so many adults living in the house, it wasn’t the end of the world if someone lost their job or had to take leave. No one could take it away from them.

Everyone had expected that Alex would be the one moving into George’s penthouse condo. But it was George who had fallen in love with their community, with this house. He’d led garden renovations last year and was already starting to talk about his plans for the spring.

Speaking of George… Alex eyed the door to their bedroom and the cooling soup on the tray.

Eliza let out a small laugh. “Don’t let me keep you from your man. I’m just going to finish my tea then it’s blackout curtains and sleep for me.”

“Best of women,” he said, pressing a kiss on her temple.

“Don’t you forget it” she replied before dragging herself out of the chair and in the direction of her room, cup of tea still in hand.

Alex gave her an unrepentant grin before gently pushing open the bedroom door with his back and turning into the room proper, tray in hand.

The curtains were drawn on George’s precious garden and the lights were out. An oxygen canister stood next to the bed, the green paint standing out in the dim room. An oxygen mask snaked from the valve to cover George’s face. His eyes were closed though it was probably too much to hope that he was asleep on a day like this. Between the oxygen and the meds, there wasn’t much else either of them could do except keep the room dark and quiet and hope that this attack would be over soon.

Cluster headaches like the kind George got were a ten on the pain scale. The worst pain a person could feel. They’d vanish for days, months, years and the suddenly they would hit, one after another for who knows how long and then just as suddenly they would vanish.

It was terrifying.

And all that helped was a terribly small list of medications and oxygen.

His vision doubled. A hospital bed in New York, only a month after their arrival. His mother, hooked up to oxygen and monitors, in the bed next to Alex.

George’s eyelids flickered.

Awake then, just like Alex had expected. He pushed the intrusive images out of his head. They’d done this before. George was in a lot of pain but he was hardly going to die from it.

“I’ve got some of your tea and some soup and toast if you’re up for it,” he whispered.

George gestured to the side table. Alex laid down the tray, closing the door with his foot.

George’s hand turned over the sheets next to him. Alex eyed the cooling tea before acquiescing. Snuggling with his sick boyfriend was hardly against the Geneva Convention. Besides, the tea and the soup could always be reheated. _Or maybe a thermos would be better,_ he considered as he climbed up on the bed. A thermos would let George take sips when he wanted without having to heat it up each time or drink cold soup.

Alex considered the problem further as he slid under the warm covers. Really one of Alex’s coffee mugs was the best choice. He had a bad habit of losing them so they kept a stockpile. He could use one of the ones he hadn’t opened yet so there wouldn’t be any coffee residue either–

“What’s got you thinking?” asked George softly, lifting the oxygen mask away from his mouth.

Alex turned on his side, watching George’s face. “About the application of on the go coffee mugs to your cold soup problem.”

George let out a soft chuckle, face clenching in pain halfway through.

Alex very purposefully held his tongue. George was the one with the splitting cluster headaches, he could decide if he wanted to take his oxygen mask off so that he could talk to Alex, even if Alex hated seeing him in pain over something so trivial. The oxygen was really the only thing that helped, though, at least as far as Alex could tell. No one really knew why. They barely knew what caused them.

“Of course you were,” George said softly, eyes flickering shut as he held the oxygen mask up to his face again and reached his left hand across to Alex’s right. Alex intertwined them. George’s hands were bigger than his, strong and still a little calloused. Neatly trimmed nails.

He sent over a quick squeeze.

George sent a squeeze back, longer than Alex’s own.

Alex rubbed his thumb over the smooth, dark skin on the back of George’s hand. As a rule, George didn’t sleep in but Alex imagined it might be a little like this minus the tightness in George’s face and the paleness of his skin.

“I thought you said you were going in today,” George said, interrupting the soft whoosh the oxygen made through the mask.

Alex hid his face in George’s shoulder before sliding his arm across his powerful chest. George’s breathing felt shallower under his arm than it normally did. “I can work from home for one day. Laf and John can hold down the fort.”

George nodded slowly and Alex huffed. He could guess that his own words would make an appearance somewhere in the future.

He let his fingers trace patterns across the soft gray cotton covering George’s chest.

George gave a sharp exhale and closed his eyes again, his left arm clutching at Alex. He breathed heavily on the oxygen mask for a few minutes while Alex was helpless to do anything more than stroke him and watch his partner in pain.

Ten minutes passed before he pulled the oxygen mask away this time.

“Talk to me, Alex?” George asked quietly and how could Alex refuse that?

“You stayed home last fall when I had scarlet fever,” he said answering the earlier question. “I don’t… You know that I don’t like being sick.”

George nodded. Yeah, Alex thought that had probably been pretty obvious. He could work through the exhaustion of the usual array of illnesses, was used to it. It had been the first time he’d had a bad fever since he’d been a child. The hallucinations and the paranoia alone…

George’s free hand was stroking through his hair all the way from the roots to the ends. Alex resumed tracing patterns on his chest.

“I hadn’t had anyone stay with me like that before,” Alex continued. Of course, friends would worry and offer to pick up anything he needed from the store. They might take over his chores without being asked. But they wouldn’t bring him ice cubes and cold towels that they’d press over his face or hold his hand and remind him where he was.

“It had meant a lot, that was all,” Alex finished quietly.

George brushed his thumb across Alex’s temple and Alex leaned in to the touch.

This was only the fourth time in the ten years that Alex had known George that he’d had one of these attacks. The first time he’d still been Alex’s professor.

“I was so pissed off the first time, you know?” Alex mused.

“Mmm?” hummed George.

“Back in first year, the day before my interview with Sidley Austin LLP. The summer internship. You’d set it up, convinced me it was a good opportunity for me and then you weren’t in class and you didn’t email me and all the school said was that you had a _‘headache’_ and I was so pissed.”

“Ah.”

“I was a jerk.”

“You certainly can be,” George said in a soft voice, teasing.

Alex flapped his hand lightly against George’s chest. “You aren’t supposed to say that to you boyfriend.”

George hummed and stroked his fingers through Alex’s hair again.

“I just thought,” he shrugged part way through, brain tripping on the words. “I thought it would be nice for you. Nice for you to be taken care of for once.”

He stroked his hand down the length of George’s chest. The pain had been bad for almost two hours. He could only hope it was calm down soon.

“It is. I appreciate it, Alexander.”

Alex let his hair fall to cover his face, trying to hide the sappy smile on his face.

“And what was it Eliza was saying about you working on my charity concert?” George asked, sounding amused.

Alex jumped a little at the change of topic, trying not to look guilty, not that there was anything to feel guilty about.

“You could hear? I’m sorry I’ll keep it quieter next time,” Alex replied softly.

“This is a very boring condition, Alex. Painful and very boring. It was nice listening to you two. Really I’m the one who should apologize for eavesdropping.”

Alex huffed out a breath against George’s broad chest, avoiding looking at him head on. “I’ve just been organizing some of the more time sensitive components.”

“I see,” George murmured.

Alex shrugged, embarrassed. It was one thing for Eliza to tease, but maybe George really was upset. “I thought– When you first brought it up you’d said if I wanted to help I could and I didn’t and I was sort of rude about it? And now you’re sick and you can barely do your real job and I know this is important–.”

“I didn’t doubt you, Alexander. I was just teasing.”

Alex looked up to meet his eyes. His face seemed more relaxed and he had more color in his skin instead of that unnatural paleness.

“Thank you, I know you think it’s a waste of your time,” George said a moment later.

Alex winced. “That’s not important.” Getting his own barbs thrown back at him was seldom pleasant and George was very good at dropping them casually into conversations when they’d be most effective. It made him a damn good lawyer. “Are you feeling any better?” he continued, half sitting up, hoping George would drop it.

“Mmmm,” George mumbled out, his eyes looking heavy.

Alex let out a little smile. A good sign. Plus Alex couldn’t help being glad if the exhaustion encouraged the potential argument from flaring up even if that made him a horrible person.

“Do you want some of that soup now?”

George opened his eyes a crack and looked side table, clearly unenthused. His eyes drooped more, likely from the exhaustion now that the attack was over but he was pushing himself into an upright position which was a good enough answer for Alex.

“I should go heat it up again,” Alex said trying to enthusiastic. George was warm.

“I’ll be asleep by the time you come back if you do,” countered George and Alex gave in with less of a fight than he should have.

By now they were both sitting up. For once, Alex had a height advantage as George hadn’t pushed himself fully upright.

Alex reached over and managed to bring the tray over without spilling the soup or the tea, which he decided was a win.

“Chicken and rice soup and your headache tea,” Alex said as he placed it in George’s lap.

“Mmm,” George mumbled again before slowly taking a spoonful and bringing it up to his lips. He took small sips, now looking more than half asleep.

It was so odd to see him like this. George had always felt like an invincible figure. Even sleeping with him hadn’t changed that.

George managed half the soup and a few bites of toast before he was moving to the tray to the side table on his side of the bed. Slowly, he lowered himself again, turning his head so that it was facing Alex.

“I don’t mind if you bring in some of your work. Or mine,” George said with an approximation of his usual grin. “You know I sleep heavily after one of my attacks, it won’t disturb me.”

Alex looked a little longingly at the closed door. It really would be nice to get them finished before the end of the day but on the other hand, if he was staying home to look after George, doing work was one of those things that was probably frowned upon.

“Go ahead,” George said, nudging him. “Alexander?”

Alex shivered, he loved the way George said his name. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” George began. Alex looked down at his feet, blushing, even though George still had his eyes closed and couldn’t see. Then, finishing, George said, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Alex crooked a puzzled eyebrow before it clicked. The conversation with Eliza, George must have overheard more than just the stuff about the concert.

“I love you,” he said with a small, private smile before walking back into the living room.

Maybe he’d write a post for his blog once he’d finished the invitation list for the concert. Or go on twitter. He could really go for dragging some free speech fuckers who’d watch V for Vendetta and Fight Club one too many times and managed to complete miss the point about their complete lack of knowledge about cyber security.

If George woke up, Alex could relay some of the funnier ones. George might deny it but Alex knew that he enjoyed watching his boyfriend cut them down to size. The razor edge of his smile, however fleeting it might be didn’t lie.

Alex whistled off-key under his breath as he gathered up his laptop and that damnable invitation list.

There was definitely a thank you blowjob somewhere in his near future.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr under the same username.


End file.
